


Shame

by youcouldmakealife



Series: Impaired Judgment (and other excuses) [58]
Category: Original Work
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-25
Updated: 2018-10-25
Packaged: 2019-08-07 05:00:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16401785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youcouldmakealife/pseuds/youcouldmakealife
Summary: “We’re doing this right now?” Bryce asks.“Apparently,” Jared says.





	Shame

Jared wakes up to the smell of coffee. That smell’s never filled him with dread before, but then, that smell means Bryce is already up, so.

Jared gets dressed in yesterday’s clothes, because he wants to be dressed for this, and he doesn’t know if Bryce is in the bedroom, doesn’t want to be blindsided in his underwear. Obviously Bryce has seen him in that and less, but clothes feel like armour or something right now.

Bryce isn’t in the bedroom, or the living room. Jared finds him in the kitchen, hunched over something on the stove — scrambled eggs? maybe? — and dressed only in his underwear, which makes Jared feel a little more in control.

“Morning,” Bryce says, like nothing happened last night. “I’m making breakfast.”

Jared gets himself a cup of coffee, pours it into the Eeyore mug, which feels fitting. “Not hungry,” he says.

“Jared,” Bryce says, turning away from the stove. The eggs look lumpy. Jared doesn’t say so, just takes a sip of coffee. “Come on.”

“Come on what?” Jared says. “I’m not hungry.”

“We’re doing this right now?” Bryce asks.

“Apparently,” Jared says.

Bryce turns the stove off, dumps the eggs right into the garbage. Jared would call him out for a waste of food, but honestly, they probably weren’t edible anyway.

Bryce marches into the living room, and Jared doesn’t know what it says about him that as furious as he is, he still watches his ass in his clingy little underwear. Probably that he’s a shallow teenager and Bryce’s ass is too amazing to ignore.

Maybe they should both be dressed for this. Too late, though, because Bryce sits down and immediately says, “What the hell was last night?”

“That is a very good question,” Jared says. Also probably a question _Bryce_ should be answering.

“You think it didn’t seem weird, you leaving like, barely a few hours in?” Bryce asks.

“No one but Chaz noticed,” Jared says. And Bryce, obviously. “And what did you want me to do? Sit there and watch you flirting with someone else right in front of my face?”

“You know that didn’t mean shit,” Bryce says.

“Do you think that fucking _helps_?” Jared says. “Because it doesn’t, okay, knowing you weren’t actually interested in her didn’t make me feel any less shitty about watching you flirt with someone that isn’t me.”

“Look, I’m sorry, okay?” Bryce says. “I didn’t think you’d give a shit. You know it’s not real flirting.”

“Wow,” Jared says. “So apparently you don’t know me at all, then.”

“Jared,” Bryce says. 

“So what?” Jared says. “Was that you trying to get back at me for coming, or do you still make a habit of acting like you’re trying to hook up whenever your team’s around?”

Bryce’s face says it’s the second one, and Jared honestly just — 

“You’re such a fucking asshole,” Jared says. “Dicking around with women who have no idea you’re just wasting their time, using them as a shield because you’re a fucking coward. ”

“Excuse me?” Bryce says. 

“I’m pretty sure I enunciated clearly,” Jared says. “If you didn’t understand, maybe you need some remedial English.”

“This is my fucking career, Jared,” Bryce says. “Maybe you don’t get that because—”

Jared can see him visibly stop himself right as Jared goes hot all over.

“Because what?” Jared says. “Finish your sentence.”

“I didn’t mean—” Bryce mumbles.

“Didn’t mean what?” Jared says. “Please tell me. Because I don’t have a career? Because mine isn’t as important as yours? Because I’m not as good? What were you going to say, Bryce?”

“I wasn’t going to say any of that!” Bryce says. “I just mean — you’re not — they’re not writing like, hit pieces on you, okay? There’s a lot of media attention on me.”

“Partly because of illegal shit you did, but people calling you out on driving drunk seems to bother you less than people potentially knowing you have a boyfriend. Which is — great. Good to know I’m worse than a DUI.”

“You’re twisting everything I say right now,” Bryce says.

“No,” Jared says. “I’m reading between the lines, and what you’re saying is that you think it’s totally cool to make me feel shitty, make girls feel shitty, as long as people think you’re straight. So you know what, you go right a-fucking-head, flirt with every girl you see. Apparently your teammates thinking you like girls is more important than my fucking feelings, so go ahead, Bryce. Enjoy it.”

“It’s not more important—” Bryce says.

“That’s bullshit,” Jared says. “As soon as my feelings aren’t convenient to the image you’re trying to portray, you don’t give a shit about them.”

“That’s not fucking fair,” Bryce snaps.

“No?” Jared says. “I can count a bunch of times you blew me off because god forbid my gay ass get in proximity to your gay ass in front of your teammates, they might figure shit out. You don’t have a problem sucking my dick, but god fucking forbid anyone knows you like sucking it, that’s a line you’ll never cross.”

“Yeah, what about me telling Summers, huh?” Bryce says.

“Because that wasn’t a good idea for your fucking career or anything,” Jared says. “Telling your agent was totally all for my sake.”

“Fuck’s _sakes_ , Jared,” Bryce says. “What do you want? Nothing’s fucking good enough, you need me to what, run around wearing a Pride flag, yell it out during practice? What the fuck would make you happy?”

“I’m not asking you to fucking tell everyone you see you’ve got a boyfriend,” Jared says. “I’m asking for the bare fucking minimum, like, oh, I don’t know, not pretending you’re hooking up all over the place, but apparently that’s asking too much. Do you know how fucking awful it is, not only knowing you won’t admit you have a boyfriend but knowing that — god, how ashamed of me are you?”

“I’m not ashamed of you,” Bryce says.

Jared snorts.

“I’m _not_ ,” Bryce says. “I’m ashamed of — I’m not ashamed of you.”

“You’re ashamed, though,” Jared says. 

“Not of _you_ ,” Bryce says.

“You know what, being ashamed of me specifically or being ashamed of having a boyfriend that happens to be me, those read pretty much the same to me,” Jared says. “And I am not something to be fucking ashamed of.”

“I know you’re not,” Bryce says, but it’s fucking empty words, because he’s ashamed anyway, and it’s written all across his face.

“You can’t even look me in the eye when we’re not in private, so I don’t know how the fuck you think we’re ready to live together,” Jared says. “I was so — I’m so fucking stupid, I keep thinking — I feel like I’m waiting for something that’s never going to happen, so apparently I’m all the girls you’re pretending to fuck, because you’re just wasting my time, acting like you’re willing to offer something you weren’t ever planning on following through with.”

“Jared,” Bryce says.

“Enjoy your trip to Colorado,” Jared says. “I’ll — I’m going home.”

“For fuck’s sakes,” Bryce snaps, following Jared into the bedroom as Jared packs his shit up. He’s still got some clothes at home, so that’s not necessary, but his laptop probably is, along with the only clean game day suit that fits him properly. “Every fucking time we fight you leave,” he says to Jared’s back. “It’s not fucking fair.”

“I leave because if I stick around I’m going to say shit I regret,” Jared says, looking for his backpack.

“Like you haven’t already?” Bryce says.

“No,” Jared says. Backpack’s in the closet, must’ve been the cleaner, because he didn’t put it there, and he doubts Bryce did either. Convenient, because his suit’s there too, still in its dry cleaning bag. He grabs that too. “I don’t fucking regret telling you I’m not going to be with someone who’s ashamed of me.”

“I told you I’m not!” Bryce says. “What do you want me to do here, Jared?”

Laptop goes in the bag, bag over his shoulder. His mom has the same kind of laptop as him, so he doesn’t need to hunt for the cord right now, can just get the fuck out.

“Actually fucking meaning it would be a start,” Jared says, heads for the bedroom door, before Bryce stands in front of it, arms crossed, posture defiant, using the one inch and twenty-five pounds has on Jared like he thinks that’s going to stop him.

“Get out of my way,” Jared says.

“No,” Bryce says. “We need to—”

Jared muscles past him, and if Bryce was expecting it he could have stopped him no problem, but he clearly didn’t, and Jared gets to the front hall before Bryce catches up, shoving his feet into the nearest pair of shoes. They’re Bryce’s, but what the fuck ever.

“Jared,” Bryce says, and his tone’s gone from pissed to conciliatory. Which, again, what the fuck ever.

“I’ll see you when you get back in town,” Jared says, and honestly, he’s over the moon now that Bryce is just in his underwear, because that means he can’t follow Jared into the hall. What if someone _saw_? It’d look pretty fucking gay, and Bryce can’t have that.

Jared walks to a nearby hotel to grab a cab, so he doesn’t have to wait outside Bryce’s building. Thankfully he’s got the cab money Chaz gave him last night, so there’s a guilt free ride home, Chaz doing him a solid without even knowing it. Good guy. Seems like a rare thing on the Flames.

Neither of his parents are home, judging by the fact both cars are gone, but Erin unfortunately is, Jared finds, because the door to his room opens a few minutes after he goes upstairs, carefully putting his laptop and suit down before throwing himself down on his bed much less carefully.

“You okay?” Erin asks his back.

“I’m fine,” Jared says to the wall. 

“Are you sure?” Erin says. “Because—”

“I’m fine, okay?” Jared snaps. “Just please — can you kindly fuck off?”

“Fucking off, as requested,” Erin snaps back, and Jared winces as the door slams behind her.

Jared shoves the heels of his hands into his eyes, tries to even out his breathing. It almost works for a minute, but then his phone vibrates in his pocket with an incoming call — not the first one — and his breath goes shaky all over again.

Jared takes his phone out when it starts buzzing again, hitting ignore on the incoming call from ‘BJ’, before turning it off entirely. He left because he didn’t want to say something he’d regret, and he’s pretty fucking sure he’d say something he’d regret if he picked up right now.

Jared numbly scrolls through Buzzfeed, Puck Daddy, barely taking in anything he’s read, until his laptop hits low battery and he can’t even do that to try to distract himself, has to face the ugly feeling in him head on, an awful mix of pissed and betrayed and fucking hurt. He goes for a jog that ends up more of a sprint in the end, takes a shower, which fucking sucks because all of his shower shit is at Bryce’s, so he’s stuck using the coconut shampoo Erin uses, a body wash that smells like grapefruit. He comes out smelling like a fucking tropical cocktail, changes into clean clothes, and goes back to lying down on his bed facing the wall, feeling the exact same, except fruitier.

Hah, fruitier. Bryce would recoil in horror. Can’t handle anything fruity.

Erin must rat him out, because almost the second he hears his mom come home she’s knocking on the door to his room.

“Jared,” his mom says.

“Yep,” Jared says.

“You okay?” she asks. “Not that I’m not happy to see you, but—”

“Please don’t ask, okay?” Jared says. “Please.”

She’s quiet for a moment. “Your dad told me you met the Flames last night,” she says.

“ _Please_ ,” Jared repeats.

“Okay,” she says. “Want to help me make dinner?”

He doesn’t, but it’s better than the alternative, which is sticking around in his room and dwelling some more, so he gets up, follows her downstairs.

“If you wanted to talk about it,” his mom says.

“I don’t,” Jared says. “Please stop.”

“Erin said you yelled at her,” she says.

He didn’t even raise his voice, but ‘I just told her to fuck off’ isn’t a good response, so there’s no point quibbling on the details. “I’ll apologise,” he says. It’s not her fault Bryce is — for once she wasn’t actively trying to antagonise him, so he can apologise.

“Okay, good,” she says. “Anything you feel like?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Jared says, and he thinks she picks shepherd’s pie to call his bluff, because she knows he’s not a big fan, but he honestly doesn’t care, just helps peel the potatoes, cook the ground beef.

Dinner’s shitty. Like, because he doesn’t like shepherd’s pie, but also because his mom and dad and Erin are all looking at him like they’re waiting for him to tell them something or burst into tears or what the fuck ever. 

Erin heads straight to her room after dinner, and Jared follows her up after his mom gives him this look, all silent ‘you said you’d say sorry.’

He knocks twice, opens it when Erin doesn’t answer. “Hey,” he says.

“Oh, I can’t go to your room but you can come to mine?” Erin says without looking up from the textbook on her lap.

“Sorry about that,” Jared says. 

Erin grunts.

“It’s just, like—” Jared says. “I dunno. I’m dealing with — sorry.”

“Oh my god, were you actually about to say ‘grown up stuff’ or something?” Erin says. “You’re eighteen, Jay, you barely even count as an adult, get over yourself.”

“I’m taking back my apology,” Jared says.

“Good, keep it,” Erin says. “But next time I tell you to fuck off you aren’t allowed to get all pissy and tell mom.”

“Deal,” Jared says.

Erin gets up and walks over to him, holding her hand up. “Shake on it,” she says.

Jared rolls his eyes, but does.

“And help me with my math homework,” she adds. “Then we’re good.”

“I didn’t shake on that,” Jared says.

“What else are you going to do, sulk in your room waiting for Bryce to call?” Erin says, and Jared scowls, but honestly — yeah, even helping her with math sounds better than staring at his wall again, and he’s not telling her that he’s turned his phone off to avoid Bryce’s calls.

Erin is a terrible student. Jared knows she gets good grades in all the arts and social sciences, but she’s always been average at best at math, and apparently the addition of polynomials broke her brain.

“This is stupid,” she says about seventeen times, but they finally get through it. It takes literal hours to get through a workload Jared blew through in fifteen minutes at her age, but whatever, it’s not like he’s doing anything else right now. He’s almost sad when they finish, because that means it’s stare at the wall time again.

“Watch a movie?” Erin asks, and Jared gratefully takes her up on it, the two of them stealing the remote from dad, who’s watching the news. Erin picks Captain America, which they’ve seen a million times. 

“Don’t front,” she says when he gives her a look. “Like you don’t drool at Bucky every time.”

Jared shrugs, settles in and watches it. His dad offers him a beer halfway through, looking surprised when he takes it, but whatever. Jared doesn’t have to be anywhere until tomorrow afternoon, and maybe it’ll help him feel better.

It does not help him feel better. He feels like he’s closer to tears than he’s been all day when he heads up to his room after SNL ends and there’s no excuse to stay up any longer, even worse when he turns his phone on to seven missed calls, a bunch of texts he can’t read right now.

 _I need space, okay?_ Jared texts Bryce, and turns his phone off again before he gets whatever answer Bryce sends him.


End file.
